Most Commented Women Blogs (347)

Instead of Car 54, yes, I would consider RVing with you but PLEASE unhide your profile, because I can't respond and you just wrote me!!!! Can't respond to you, but you can write to me, email me with your own email.

....Brings so many questions to mind. Since a fetus is ony 50% of them, why insist on control of "their bodies", when it comes to CFM? OK perhaps to work in healthcare, clerical jobs, and such, in our military, but front line land combat roles? Inner city police work? Contact sports (rugby, football, etc.) having the weaker sex join men's teams? Or trans "men" joining women's teams? Quotas, affirmative action, and other non talent based preferences for employment, school, etc.? With rare exceptions, men have always been dominant. Think that just occured by magic? Who wears the pants in this extended human family anyway?

A cheap, totally effective, extremely low adverse (side) effect, no prescription necessary, easy to use...birth control pill. The humble 325 mg aspirin tablet. Only one needed, no capsules please, and can even store by the bedside and reuse many times. Directions: Take one and place tightly between the knees, untill the man is out of the house.. and out of sight. And out of mind.

,,, lady came in to this place,and was confused about the entrance codes and keys. I tried to help her, but she became quite rude and angry. So, recognizing the style, I simply backed off. Another man, a very kind Brazilian, then tried, but came back shortly, saying "she has lots of walls around her". So then a kind Spanish lady tried, and had a bit more success. The house maid finally succeeded.The story was, she was recently in Japan, where the men were all pigs, and drunk all the time. Somehow, she transferred all this to Me and Thiago, and even a little to Rachel. She later said she was sorry for her behaviors. But THE last thing I need is for her to report one of us to the police for whatever crazy reason. I've seen men get in trouble with this sort, so I'm simply giving her wide berth. Wish I weren't so cautious. Love to give her a chance. But no thanks. Once burned, twice shy.

...bet all here thought my political rants were crazy enough. And I don't digress. But really, I've examined my share of female bodies, alive and not so much, both professionally and also not so much, but I was nonplussed, I say, nonplussed!!! The facts, ma'am, just the facts. So, she had been walking in for coffee into my cafe Memoir writing haunt for some time, but hell, why would she even look at me, let alone put up with my lame pick up jive. Slim, svelte, just a tad of olive complexion, mid 40's, thickly cropped dark hair--with just a touch of sexy grey streaking, and a physique to match. Dual citizenship. Had the green eyes going as well. And tall enough to eat soup off my head. I'll admit, these types scare me, and not merely for the oodles of femme fatale Jones often involved. (Das gebrannte Kind, scheut das Feuer.) Moth and flickering candle. But she actually struck up a conversation with me, apparently having seen me on the vintage shinny Gold Wing. She had this crappy older rusty Beemer wagon, costing her hundreds of dollars monthly, at a totally honest shop. (Good caring guys, all). So, of course I play up the interest in vintage vehicles, and she gets emotional, talking about what a money pit her beloved crappy BMW had become. Well, with nary a trace of base self- interest, my honorable chivalrous side instantly kicked in. Being, ceteris paribus, a bit of a motor head, she wouldn't be the first distressed damsel this old goat offered to help find a used car. More a case of keeping her from buying junk impulsively. So, one solid decade old cherry Volvo wagon later, she waltzes in to the Coop Cafe again, and proceeds to buy me a nice gift certificate, which she refused to let me refuse. Well, one thing led to another, before I was predictably, but at least ceremoniously, dumped, remaining text pals. She was anyway in the process of moving away during the car search. But those lower legs. oy weh! She always wore tights, no complaints all around, and once, while sitting, with a right leg up, semi yoga style, I saw it all. From just above the medial ankle to mid calf, the lovely skin had hundreds, perhaps thousands, of what at first looked like closed comedones (black heads). They were from shaving the fur, clearly, but just what was I seeing? I'm used to blondes, with the mohn sometimes in no need of the razor at all, ever, if never having begun this bestial act in the first place, slaves to culture all. Wondered I, was she just between regular scrapings, had she never heard of Nair, or of electrolysis. or JUST WTF!?!? Plumb confused, and then before she broke the boys' hearts here and moved away, the stubble was gone! Perhaps it was all only a dream.

...My favorite had to hit us right during the peak initial homonal surge years---8th grade. Which incidentally is also the toughest 5 year period for most liberals. Miss D. The name rhymes with deadlips, and boy did she have some pairs, of these and others, way before Brazilian collagen injections. We used to joke that they weren't there from sucking on lolly pops. But I digress. her first year teaching, tall (for us Azorean midgets), stiff, and very proper, with her English accent to match. Always in red (F-ck me) high heels. What the hell was this immigrant perfumed tasty prize doing in our proletarian neighborhood? God could she conjugate verbs and decline gerunds, as our English school marm par excellance. She was mostly a bobby soxer, but rarely, just to titillate, she'd show up with those silkies, the ones with the sewed stripe down the back, probably from marmar's collection during the war. a decade erlier. When we yanks were over paid, over sexed and over there. And oversexed we all were, oh those nearly see through loose button up blouses, tucked into that neatly ironed pleated Scottish plaid skirt. Buttoned, never belted. Did this prude image cultivating dream boat really have to wear black lace brazzieres? When she'd bend over to help, with those snarly dangling participles, and other danglers, all were praying to the Lord for a failure in button thread. Her wheels? British of course, but this was years before my becoming a car guy, so who knew, ---but it was a green sports car? Like mine now---go figure, the unconscious.Until I write these words, I've always wondered why foreign chicks turn me on. As do all those accents, even those from out Southland. Religiously always ate her lunch at her desk, brown bag of course, very much a holdover from those days of ration coupons. She still appears in an occasional dream, bringing on the now rare midnight stiffie. Armacord. Y'all know how dreams work, perhaps she'll be there between me and Bravo tonight. Get away big dog.

I am in SE Asia again and this is what happens when you go out on your own for a drink....

Hello handsome man. Come inside have a look please. Welcome. Sit here OK. What you drink? Carlsberg no have. No have long time. Heineken same OK? Moment please. Have a look, many pretty lady for you.

You want? You want lady sit you tell me. What? OK, I sit with you. You handsome man. Pen knon arai? You speak Thai? Nit noi? I speak English little bit. Where you come from? America? Cannot. I think you look same same Hong Kong. No? Not same? Your face I think no look American. Live America, OK, I know, but your face look—OK, OK, American.

You stay hotel? Work Thailand? Have condo? How long you stay Thailand? One year, why you no speak Thai? You need Thai teacher? I teach you Thai. You like Thailand? Sanook di mai? Khao jai mai? Oh, you can speak Thai. Geng maak. How old you? I think you look younger. You look – very good, very good. Me? Twenty-two. Work here two year. I no see you here before, you not come? I used to dancing dancing but now just welcome. Dancing too much talk talk okay better.

I come Buri Ram. You know? Isaan. North-east Thailand. Very beautiful. Many girl work here come Isaan, you know? You go Isaan? No? Very hot. Bangkok better, have friend here. Live with my sister. Father mother me have farm in Buri Ram, rambutan. You know rambutan? Only summer, aloi maak. Very good but money no good. You have brother sister? No? stay alone? Have wife? No? Girlfriend? I think you have many many. No?

Have no boyfriend. Have boyfriend before but no boyfriend now. Have Thai boyfriend Buri Ram but no good. Thai man no good, drink too much no work. I have farang boyfriend in Bangkok but he go back Israel. I no see him long time but he call me. He want me to stop work bar but he no give me money. I work bar send money to father mother Buri Ram, have no boyfriend. Have to take care sister me.

You buy drink for my friend? My sister, name Noi. Not same sister me live together, this my sister work bar. You have friend, can go with Noi. No? You like other lady, you tell me I bring. Me? You like me? You want I go with you. Can pay bar fine 500 baht OK? You like me I happy can go with you. OK mai?

You no like me? Where you go? I go with you. We go dancing OK? Have disco open late, I know can go. You pay bar I go with you. What? Meet you? I meet you? Cannot. Work here. You pay bar I go. You no pay bar I no go. Pay bar OK? Work late. After? After work go home? Can go dancing, but go now. You pay bar I go now. Why you no pay bar? Where you go?

OK, check. You give tip for me? No? You no like me? Where you go? Go home now? OK, I go with you! Just joking. Next time. You come back I go with you.

...much has been said and written on the topic, most of which is affirmative. But when I think back at the mother of our girls, for the whole truncated pregnancy, my memories are much more nuanced. Physical and emotional beauty both.

...not really against this or a mention or two in the PC biased media. If qualifying testing isn't of two standards. But so much media fawning over it, TD-HD Syndrome sufferers mostly, ---of course these sort can't help it, as with some blogers here. Yet, the US Marines get it. They know what it takes to drag a wounded comrade to safety under intense fire. And still resist having the weaker sex in many land combat arms rolls. During EVA, it's mostly pressing the button on battery powered screw drivers/wrenches, and slipping in and out relatively light weight external function panels. But Prof. Newton's first law tells us that momentum can make heavier objects tough to catch/stop, and it's likely worse in near zero gravity, when tired and weak to begin with. Plenty of vital military rolls for women, without having PC pull us all around by the noses. On longer space missions, why not have lots of hot women. Comfort astronauts? But I jest.